Retrograde
by Kilrez
Summary: Jarod is found by the Centre, face down in an alley with large lump on his head. Now Broots has been found. And revenge is only reasonable really... :D Finished at last
1. Prologue

Do we all remember that lovely episode when Jarod first met Argyle? Well, take the bit where he's knocked unconscious by a truck driver then assume that Argyle didn't find him; the Centre did.  
  
Disclaimer: Round and round the mulberry bush, The monkey chased the weasel. The monkey stopped to do up his socks, Pop goes the weasel  
  
Prologue  
  
'Really Syd, I don't know why we bother'  
  
'Um, Miss Parker?' said Broots from across the other side of the alley  
  
'Because it is our job' replied Sydney, ignoring Broots  
  
'Miss Parker' repeated Broots  
  
'But we both know that he'll always be long gone before we even open the door to his lair' Parker continued to absently search through the miscellaneous junk that lined the alley walls.  
  
'Miss Parker! Sydney!' called Broots, louder this time  
  
'Not always. We have nearly caught him many times'  
  
'Miss Parker, I really think you should come and have a look at this!'  
  
'And don't you just get the feeling that those times we were as far away as we are now.'  
  
'One day Miss Parker...'  
  
'Miss Parker' Broots tone was almost pleading now.  
  
'What Broots?' she finally snapped, not turning around.  
  
'Err...' he paused, unsure how to put it.  
  
Parker sighed in frustration and turned around, ready to give the stuttering computer technician something to actually stutter about. She opened her mouth then saw that Broots was squatting next to a dark grey form on the ground. Sydney had turned around as well and now his gaze was riveted by the body that Broots had uncovered among the garbage. Parker quickly strode over, her eyes confirming her fears. It was Jarod, lying unconscious on the ground.  
  
She knelt down beside the prone pretender, on the opposite side from Broots. Sydney was already on his knees checking Jarod's pulse. 'He's alive' confirmed the psychiatrist. Still, Parker barely dared breathe. Jarod looked awful. His face was covered in dirt and minor bruises and blood seeped slowly from a massive lump on his forehead. Sydney reached forward to gingerly touch the lump. It looked like something had hit him travelling at high speed. As Sydney's fingers made contact with the lump, there was a moan from Jarod. Sydney removed his hand and they all watched Jarod's eyelids flicker.  
  
Parker remembered herself and unclipped her gun from its holster, ready in case he was just playing possum, unlikely though it was. Jarod roused slowly from consciousness, his eyelids opening to show all whites before the irises flicked down. He blinked a couple of times as though trying to focus then groaned again and reached up with one hand towards his head. It didn't get as far as the lump before he let it fall back to his side. Parker noted the bruising that surrounded one eye.  
  
'How many fingers?' asked Sydney holding up one hand. Jarod made an unintelligible garbling sound, stopped, shook his head, then tried again. 'Sixteen, and a few little cartoon birdies.'  
  
'From unconsciousness to sarcasm in seven seconds. Well done.'  
  
Jarod focused with some difficulty on Miss Parker. 'Who are you?' he said eventually. 'Come to think of it, who am I?'  
  
Ah, gotta love tacky throw away lines. TBC. 


	2. Who?

Chapter Two, because who needs a chapter one when you can have a prologue instead.  
  
Disclaimer: no, because I don't feel like writing one. Go burn a cat.

* * *

'You're Jarod' Sydney told him gently, looking extremely worried.  
  
'And... what happened?' he asked, his brow wrinkling slightly in confusion.  
  
'That's what I'd like to know' said Parker.  
  
'He's got concussion,' said Sydney, 'we should get him back to the Centre.'  
  
'What's the Centre?'  
  
'Maybe it's a good thing he's lost his memory' said Broots half-jokingly. Parker gave a snort of agreement.  
  
'Can you sit up?' Sydney asked Jarod, ignoring the other two. 'I'll see,' said Jarod, taking a deep breath. It was obvious to the three Centre operatives that it cost the pretender quite a lot to sit upright, but finally he managed it. His face was pale and he was panting slightly 'I'll go get the car' offered Broots, standing and hurrying off  
  
They didn't bother to handcuff the concussed man for the drive back to the Centre- after all; he didn't know there was anything to run from. Parker rang ahead to prepare for their arrival, so when the car pulled up there were sweepers waiting to escort the pretender and his captors into the Centre. There was a flurry of activity and before she knew it, Parker was standing at the end of a hospital bed in the renewal wing, next to Sydney and her father, watching Jarod being thoroughly checked over by a small army of nurses and doctors.  
  
'We found him unconscious in an alley' Parker told her father, not taking her eyes of Jarod, who was watching a nurse take his blood pressure.  
  
'Well done angel.' Said her Mr Parker proudly, money glinting in his eyes.  
  
'There is a problem' Sydney warned him.  
  
'Problem?' asked Mr Parker sharply, worried that something might come between him and the Centre's most valuable asset.  
  
'His abilities took years of training. He won't be able to perform simulations without his memory.'  
  
'Is there any way to help him get it back?'  
  
'It's hard to say. He may regain it by himself, it may take a prompt from his past, or he may never get it back.'  
  
'Prompt from his past' repeated Mr Parker thoughtfully, looking at his daughter.  
  
'No daddy' she warned him firmly, 'I've bought him in, now I'm leaving. You promised me.'  
  
The old man sighed. 'OK angel, I suppose I can't stop you if your mind is set on this. You've inherited your mother's strong will'  
  
'Thank you daddy.'  
  
'I just hoped you would consider staying. After all, someone has to be chairman after me.'  
  
'I'm sure Lyle won't mind. Bye daddy' said Parker as she breezed out. And it was that easy.  
  
Parker was cleaning out her office when she heard Sydney enter. She knew it was Sydney simply by the way he made very little sound when he entered. Lyle always announced himself immediately, Broots would shuffle nervously from foot to foot and Mr Parker never bothered to come to her office, he simply summoned her to his.  
  
'Where will you go?' asked Sydney quietly. Parker looked up from where she was packing papers into a box. The psychiatrist wasn't trying to persuade her to stay, like her father, nor leave like a certain incessantly preaching pretender. He was just curious about what she would do now.  
  
'Well first,' Parker told him, going back to packing the box, 'I'm going to have a holiday. Then I will think about it.'  
  
'Enjoy your freedom Parker.'  
  
'What about you Freud? You could leave now if you wanted to.'  
  
Sydney simply shook his grey haired head. 'It's to late for me now. Don't worry about it. I'll do what good I can here though. If Mr Parker lets Lyle loose on Jarod again, I have to be here to step in.'  
  
Parker nodded sadly. That was the one thread that pulled her to stay at the Centre- Jarod, amnesiac and completely at her father's mercy. But she had been waiting for this for too long. If she didn't go now, she never would. So she said her good byes to Sydney and Broots, gave Lyle and Raines' offices wide girths, and stepped out into the sunlight, truly free.

* * *

Jarod in the bowels of the Centre and Parker out on the surface- we have done a turn around haven't we. TBC.


	3. Go to jail, do not pass go

Chapter 3  
  
WARNING: character death, although it is a character that no one likes much anyway, and this story doesn't go all angsty.  
  
Disclaimer: Ring-a-ring-a-rosy, A pocket full of posies, a tissue, a tissue, we all fall down

mfkngst: Thankyou fro your review. I can see you have thought about the whole parker/Jarod thing. It comes a little later, you'll see.

gemini 006007: thanks for reviewing but don't worry about Parker's sudden lack on concience. All will be revealed in time.

pretender fanatic: Thankyou for a particularly enthusiastic review, it puts me in a good mood for the rest of the day, hearing things from you. Let's just say Jarod has a 'special amnesia' ok? : D Anything is possible. Or maybe Sydney just wants to annoy Mr Parker.

* * *

While Parker was lying on a beach and kicking it in the clubs of Tahiti, sinister things were being set in motion in the Centre's dim hallways. Jarod's return and Parker's leaving had been the catalyst for a plan that had been brewing for a long time  
  
The takeover bid was so well planned that Mr Parker was practically helpless against it. By the time the two schemers walked into his office, he had no one left to turn to. His demise had avalanched out of control so quickly that soon anyone with any sense would have very little to do with him. Out of favour with the triumvirate and shunned by his rich and powerful friends, the old man had very little choice but to back down when the challenge was laid across his desk. His head was bowed as he cleaned out his office, and he didn't speak to anyone as he stepped into the elevator carrying the last of his possessions. Sydney and Broots watched on the security feed as he trailed through the lobby alone, looking old and worn. Then he stepped out the doors for the last time and disappeared, just five days after his daughter.

* * *

Parker woke briefly in her dark hotel room to the sensation of a chloroform soaked cloth being placed over her mouth. She couldn't make out her assailant in the humid darkness of the Tahitian night but she landed a couple of good kicks before everything went fuzzy and her muscles involuntarily relaxed.  
  
She awoke again with a headache and a bad mood. Before she even opened her eyes she could tell she was on a plane. It was something about the smell, and the dull roar in the background, although that may have been her freshly conscious mind playing tricks on her. It was bright, on the other side of her eyelids, and one hand was handcuffed to the armrest. She pulled at the constraint as she opened her eyes. The overly bright sunlight streamed in through the plane's windows and reflected glaringly off the white furnishings. Parker squinted against it, her headache taking it up a notch.  
  
'You shouldn't go on holiday without telling people where you're going' stated Lyle cheerily as he breezed past with a drink in hand.  
  
'It wouldn't be a holiday if you knew where I was' snapped Parker with enough acid in her voice to burn through steel. 'I swear, if you don't tell me what the !&% you are playing at right now, I will strangle you with your own optic nerves little brother.' She noticed she was still wearing the crumpled and dirty clothes she had fallen asleep in and didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed.  
  
'Now now 'big sister,' calm down.'  
  
'Right Now Lyle'  
  
'Well, I'll give you the bad news first- Daddy isn't chairman anymore.'  
  
'And the good?' asked Parker sarcastically, not portraying any dismay she may have felt over the news.  
  
'Out with the old, in with the new'  
  
'You?' she asked incredulously, more disdain in her voice than shock.  
  
'Didn't think I had it in me, did you sis?'  
  
'No dear brother, I've always known that you are a murdering, lying cheat. I just thought that once I left, you and the ghoul would be so busy squabbling that you'd have no time left to actually take power.'  
  
'Actually, we banded together'  
  
'Now that is a surprise- the devil and the psychotic choir boy actually working together'  
  
'Only long enough to completely destroy the old man's power base and kick him out of the tower' replied Lyle modestly, 'then I had Raines assassinated. And well, as you can see, now the Centre's all mine.'  
  
'Yay for you' said Parker dryly, 'but why the hell does this new toy of yours have to involve kidnapping me from the first holiday I've had since the labrat escaped?'  
  
'You'll be pleased to know, it's about the labrat'  
  
Parker swore in French. Lyle raised his eyebrows. 'More specifically, the labrat's amnesia'  
  
'Oh, fucking brilliant. Just brilliant. You can't get him to remember so you cart me in from the other side of the world just to jog his memory about the six lovely years I spent chasing him all over North America.'  
  
'Not to mention your childhood together before that. Sydney has failed. You should feel honoured that you have been chosen for this momentous task.'  
  
'Don't even try that bullshit on me Lyle' He held up his hands in defence. 'It was worth a try. How about this- not only will we let you go when he can name the molecular weight of every element in the periodic table, we'll let Sydney go too.'  
  
Parker's reply to that would not have been printable in even the crudest tabloid. A sweeper took that moment to enter the rear part of the plane to inform Lyle that they were beginning their descent. Parker noted with satisfaction that the beefy man walked with a limp. Lyle nodded and followed the sweeper to the front of the plane so they could strap in for landing. Parker was left to stare out the small window as they descended through the thick cloud cover and down towards the Centre airstrip. The bright sunlight in the plane faded, along with her burning anger, leaving only empty depression. The sight of the massive brooding stone building under the dark grey rain clouds made her shiver and her heart sank even further.  
  
She had no idea what Lyle had done with Sydney, and she was doubtful that he'd keep to his word even if she did manage to help the pretender regain his memory. Still, there was very little she could do until an opportunity presented itself for escape. She leaned her forehead on the cold glass of the window as the first drops of rain began to fall and sighed.

* * *

TBC. 


	4. Discussion

Chapter 4  
  
Disclaimer: If I spoke what was on my mind right now, the kiddies would not be able to read this story... Oh fuck it. Fuck you all. Fuck the fucking lawyers; they are evil money grubbing bastards that tear people apart. So that is why I will not disclaim my work. Stories are the right of the people so all you fucking grey suited dickheads can fucking well piss off. Phew, glad I got that of my chest.

Parker's Pretender: Wow, a polite reviewer. I can tell that you're desperate.

Brandy: It's nice to know that you're paying attention, but how about a little bit of hush? You're stealing my story here ;)

Nans: There wasn't going to be Sydney angst, but there might be now. I'll think about it. Thanks for the thought.

Pretender Fanatic: A review fairy? meh, why not.I was going for minimalist with the parker kidnapping. I like constructive critism though, it really helps. I'll take a look at that scene. Now, I'll turn this back on you; KUTGWRS (The R is for 'review')

mfkngst: It looks like your review was typed in a hurry ;). Thanks a lot for the review, it made me smile. I like knowing that this or that line is appreciated.

* * *

Jarod looked up as the door to his small cell was opened and the woman that had bought him to this place was shoved in, before the door clanged shut again. He watched as she got up and straightened her somewhat crumpled clothes, anger showing through in her every movement. When her cold blue eyes turned on him he flinched and found himself suddenly lost for words. A small muscle under her eye twitched then she sighed and sunk to the floor, leaning her back against the wall. Tipping her head back she closed her eyes.  
  
'Are you alright?' he asked finally.  
  
'Oh, I'm just peachy. My crazed twin has taken over the Centre, locked me in a cell with the one person in the world who I believe is fully capable of killing me out of sheer irritation, is holding my second oldest friend hostage, and to top it all off, I have a roaring headache.'  
  
'So we know each other then?'  
  
'Yes Jarod, we know each other.'  
  
'Oh' he said, once again lost for words. They were silent for a while. 'Why did he lock you in here?'  
  
'Because when you remember who and what you are, he can start making lots of money.'  
  
'And... you're... supposed to help me remember?'  
  
Parker opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling then lowered her gaze to rest steadily on the man that sat on the small cot across the room. 'Has your IQ dropped along with that bump on the head?'  
  
Jarod narrowed his eyes and frowned at her. 'I have no idea,' he replied levelly, his annoyance barely contained under the surface, 'not only can I not remember what my IQ was before I was hit on the head, I also have no premises from which to work off when I make assumptions. As far as I know, I have never met you before, except for that once when you brought me here, like I said, although you do seem to be quite familiar with me.'  
  
'At least it clearly hasn't affected your ability to be self-righteous.'  
  
'Look, while you're here, could you at least tell me who I am? What's going on? You keep on making all these references that I don't understand'  
  
'You have no idea how ironic that statement is do you?'  
  
'No.'  
  
Parker smiled slightly as she sighed dramatically. 'You're Jarod' she said simply.  
  
'I gathered that much. What about my last name, my age...?'  
  
'You're not the only one who doesn't know those two. If you remember, let me know, I'm curious.'  
  
'This is only making me more confused.'  
  
Parker smiled wryly. Her situation presented itself to the forefront of her mind with crystal clear clarity and she suddenly gave out a hysterical bark of laughter. It all had a strange sort of humour to it. Jarod looked at her strangely, cocking his head on one side in a way that was just so familiar to her. 'Why is it that everything I do will always be somehow connected to you?' she asked him rhetorically.  
  
Jarod's handsome features softened and he leaned forwards towards her. 'Tell me your name and we can go from there. Maybe I can tell you why.'  
  
In the clarity of the moment, Parker understood that the only person that would get her out of this would be Jarod. Either by Lyle keeping his promise or by them both escaping, she would only leave if Jarod regained his memory. So she needed Jarod to be on her side, she needed to be on Jarod's side. In that strangely clear moment, Parker made a decision. She put her hands on the floor and pushed herself upright. Jarod watched as she took the two steps towards him. 'My name...' she began, then bent down and whispered the rest in his ear. 'But call me Miss Parker.' She continued, straightening. With that she turned and went back to sit with her back against the wall and crossed her legs. 'It's a pretty name' he offered, 'why do you want me to call you Miss Parker?'  
  
'Just because' she replied calmly, although her mind abruptly whipped images of her mother smiling and mouthing her first name before her eyes. He shrugged, accepting this.  
  
'What do you remember?' she asked. Jarod frowned in thought. 'It's like the world started when I woke up in that alley. I try, but there's nothing. I just can't...' he stopped, overcome with frustration, and pressed the palms of his hands against his closed eyes.  
  
'You seem to have muscle memory or something' Parker reassured him the best she could, 'I've seen you make that gesture hundreds of times. When we were kids you would do it when ever we got lost in the vents or you thought you were about to get caught.'  
  
Jarod raised his head and met her gaze. His deep liquid brown eyes held such hope and innocence in them that Parker's heart nearly broke. 'We first met when we were about five' she confirmed for him. 'Why was I afraid of getting caught? Who was chasing me?'  
  
Parker paused as she wondered about how to explain the Centre to him. His beautiful eyes bored into her so she evaded the question. 'Jarod, does the name 'Angelo' mean anything to you?'  
  
'I ...don't...no.' he said finally, shaking his head. He was frowning once again in frustration.  
  
'Then can you remember any nursery rhymes?'  
  
'Nursery rhymes?'  
  
Parker shrugged. Sometimes it is the things that are to unimportant to forget that stay. Jarod frowned again, this time in thought  
  
'There's something. It doesn't make sense...'  
  
'Nursery rhymes rarely do'  
  
Jarod paused a moment longer, then sang 'Cree craw toad's foot, geese walk bare foot'  
  
Parker broke into a smile, despite herself. 'Does it mean something?' asked Jarod hopefully.  
  
'Not that I've ever been able to tell' laughed Parker, 'it's the only thing you've ever remembered from your childhood.'  
  
Jarod's face lit up with his trademark radiant grin. Then he became thoughtful. 'Why don't I remember my childhood? Have I had amnesia before?'  
  
'No. It's just that...'  
  
'It's this place isn't it? I've been here before'  
  
'So you do remember some things' Parker told him, still trying to dodge the subject of the Centre.  
  
'It's not so much remembering as... I don't know. I just get this feeling. This place gives me the creeps.'  
  
'It gives most people the creeps'  
  
'What is it? Why am I being held here? What do they want from me?' Jarod was becoming more and more agitated.  
  
'Hey, Jarod.... Jarod! Calm down OK?' she paused to gather her thoughts. He watched her and she noticed with a small shock that he was almost on the verge of tears. 'This place is the Centre. It's a corporation that makes money out of exploiting people with... different... abilities.'  
  
'I'm one of them aren't I?'  
  
'Yes' said Parker, finding herself suddenly unable to meet his dark brown eyes. Jarod said nothing to this. He just sat and thought for a long time.  
  
'I must have escaped then' he spoke slowly, uncertainly, waiting for her to stop him. She looked up but didn't speak, so after a long moment he went on. 'That's why you were in that alley in the first place. You...' he choked for a moment but then pushed on 'you were chasing me. Chasing me to bring me back here.'  
  
'Yes.' answered Parker lowering her eyes, offering no defence .She was fully guilty; there was no point in denying it. Jarod was silent for another long moment. 'If that man who was there right before they locked me down here was your father, then you used to be in quite a powerful position. If you're down here, you're not in one anymore.'  
  
Parker gave small sardonic snort. 'No. I'm what you would call 'completely out of power.''  
  
Their conversation was interrupted at that point with a rattle from the door, before a hatch about halfway up the door slid up and a tray of food was slid through onto a small platform attached to the door. They both watched it for a moment, then Jarod stood up and retrieved the tray. He set in front of Parker then sat down the other side of it, mimicking her crossed legs and straight back.  
  
'Huh. Thought maybe they'd double the rations with another person in here'  
  
'They're like that' shrugged Parker. She wasn't hungry anyway, although she knew Jarod had an appetite like a race horse.  
  
'Here, you should drink. It will help make your headache go away.' He offered her the single mug of water. She took it gratefully and had a sip. She had not drunken anything since a while before she was kidnapped. After she had drained what she estimated to be half the mug she placed it back down on the tray. He had been watching her. 'Better?'  
  
'Yes.' She paused. 'How did you know I still had a headache?'  
  
'Because you keep a muscle tensed in your forehead when you do.'  
  
Parker suddenly snapped. 'Right, that's it! You are making this amnesia up.'  
  
'But...'  
  
'Lyle! Lyle, you psychotic son of a bitch. Let me out of here or I will disembowel you with a soup spoon!' She stood up and stalked over to the camera. Jarod leapt up and chased her the few steps across the cell.  
  
'Miss Parker! I'm not making it up. I don't know how I knew that. Please, don't make Mr Lyle come'  
  
Parker heard the desperation in his voice and managed to calm down. 'Since when have you been afraid of Mr Lyle?' she asked him quietly, tilting her head on one side and looking into his eyes.  
  
'You mean I wasn't always afraid of him?' asked Jarod with a crooked half smile. 'You never showed it if you were. Yo were to busy humiliating the hell out of him.'  
  
Jarod gave a soft chuckle of amusement then became serious as he stared back into Parker's eyes. His breathing stilled and he tilted his head on one side. Parker's memory flipped her a card. She held up her right hand, palm facing him. Jarod frowned, wondering what she was doing. 'Hold your hand up' she told him, repeating his words from so long ago. 'Can you feel it?' she closed her eyes, willing him to remember. She could hear her breathing and his, as they both stood like that. 'Do you remember anything?' she asked softly  
  
'Just how soft your hands are.' Parker dropped her hand and they both opened their eyes. She smiled. 'You told me that once, a long time ago.'  
  
'It's something' said Jarod.  
  
'Well at least we can take refuge in the fact that your memory isn't completely gone. Even if you are only remembering strange and abstract things.' said Parker ducking around him and walking back to sit on her side of the tray. 'What?' said Jarod sharply. Parker looked up surprised. 'What did you just say?' he demanded.  
  
'At least we can...' she started, unsure why he was acing like that.  
  
Jarod gave a low cry then put his head in his hands and sunk to the floor. Parker hurriedly scrambled over to him. She realised now. The code word Sydney had devised in case his protégé ever wanted out from a sim worked both ways. If Jarod ever lost himself, he was conditioned to respond to 'refuge.' Not thinking about what she was doing she wrapped her arms around him as he started to rock backwards and forwards, making a low keening sound.  
  
'Something are better not to know' he gasped.  
  
Parker didn't know what to say, so she jut held him while he rocked and whimpered. Finally he quietened, but they remained wrapped around each other. In the loud silence of the Centre they both heard the door click and Parker quickly whispered in his ear. 'You have to get us out of here Jarod.' He looked up at her, surprised, then nodded. Parker smiled at him then stood to face who ever it was that would come through the door.  
  
'Touching. Really. That was an excellent little show. Congratulations' said Lyle as he entered, clapping slowly. Parker's face was the picture of artic cold. 'Let me the fuck out of here little brother.'  
  
'Touchy touchy.'  
  
'You would be too if you had just spent two hours locked in a cell.'  
  
'Perhaps. But I will never know.' He gave her a beatific smile then stood to one side to allow her to stalk past him. Glancing briefly at Jarod, who had curled into a ball at the far corner of the cell, Lyle shut and locked the door then followed after his sister.

* * *

TBC.


	5. Reentry

Chapter five  
  
Disclaimer: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing Is that not a dainty dish to set before a king?

Brandy: Wow, someone's excited. Thanks so much for your review, it's good to know I'm doing something right. Jarod faking it, hmm. Maybe, maybe not. My lips are sealed. You'll find out soon enough.

dmg1013: Why thankyou. I'll write if you review.

mariel4000: as do we all. The sentiment is appreciated.

Parker's Pretender: I only called you desperate in a good way. Don't sulk. I like people being desperate for my stories. It makes me feel wanted. :)

sparkling silver angel wings: Interesting name you have there. I actually have something worse than a bullet in store for Mr Lyle but you'll see when I get there.

Pretender fanatic: What have I done to upset my review fairy?! I didn't mean to, hey, I don't even know what I did. I'm sorry. You are a wee bit pedantic though. Oh well, I know the feeling. I'm actually studying memory disorders in psychology at the moment, which is the inspiration for this story. When I say studying, that means that I don't know it all yet, so I am liable to get some wrong. But hey, I'll know that if I do, my review fairy will be there to pull me up. And Parker did say 'muscle memory, or something.' It was talking from her perspective, not mine. If Sydney had said it on the other hand... Thanks for the review.

Nans: Thanks for the pledge of loyalty. I have thought about my promise and Sydney angst, and I'm sorry to say, I probably can't fit it into this story. Sorry :(. How about this- I'll write another story for you, full of Sydney angst. There'll be lots of Sydney in this one as well though.

morgan: thanks for the review. I like that you liked it.

Gemini-M: two reviews from you, lucky me. Yeah, Parker's a smart woman and for all she denies it, she knows when to admit she needs help. Thanks, keep reading.

KatieQ: Thanks for the review. Enjoy this chapter

Author's note: If you have reviewed and I haven't replied, sorry. I got a sudden deluge of reviews and it's a little confusing about what's what. Just review this chapter, then I'll reply to that (if I don't die from sleep exhaustion first) ;)

* * *

Parker had known Lyle would not keep his promise of freedom for her and Sydney. He was too much of a scumbag, and he judged everyone else by his own standards. He was afraid that if he let Parker go, she would gather power and come to take the chairmanship from him. Still, she was surprised, yet grateful, for his choice of cellmate for her.  
  
'Miss Parker? I thought you managed to get away'  
  
'No such luck Freud. Where's Broots?'  
  
'He saw this coming and walked out one hour after Lyle took power. Hopefully he will not be considered important enough to pursue.'  
  
'Hopefully' agreed Parker, not bothering to ask Sydney why he hadn't followed the technician. Sydney would rather have sawed off his own arm than abandon the Centre's inmates.  
  
'It's good to see you again' said Sydney, standing and giving her a brief fatherly hug. Parker was glad for the reassurance. The constant and timeless darkness of the Centre that would not be banished by the brightest lights was starting to get to her in a way it never had when she was on the other side of the bars. The two friends went to sit side by side on the cot.  
  
'If you're in here I take it to mean that you couldn't get Jarod to remember'  
  
'The opposite Syd. He remembered. Now Lyle is afraid I'll take his precious chairmanship from him if he lets me go.'  
  
'A man who is so insecure of his position can be very dangerous'  
  
'He is my twin Sydney. I know.'  
  
Sydney gave her a grim smile and they sat in silence, each wondering what tomorrow would bring, and hoping like hell that Jarod would be able to save them.  
  
-------------------------------------- ------------------------------ - --- ------------------------------ ---------------- - - -------------------- --- ------- -------  
  
Jarod heard Parker's footsteps leave the cell and instantly missed her warmth, her presence. Still, he was almost grateful when the door clanged shut behind the twins. It meant Lyle did not want anything from him. Yet. He needed time to deal with his memories. The things he had done... Never again. He would never sim for them. No matter what.  
  
When Lyle came back for him, flanked by two sweepers, he found Jarod curled in the same ball he had left him in. 'Rise and shine pretender' ordered Lyle, his voice full of malice. Jarod did not respond. The new chairmen strode forward and kicked him hard in the ribs. Jarod grunted but did not move. 'Get him up' Lyle told the two sweepers. They advanced on him, and grasped one shoulder each. Jarod allowed himself to be heaved upright with no resistance, but his head lolled forward like a rag doll and his feet did not support his own weight.  
  
'Jarod!' barked Lyle sharply. The pretender's head snapped up, but his body remained otherwise relaxed. His eyes were rolled so far back in his head that only the whites showed and there was a faint grin on his face. It seemed that in the short time since Parker had left him, Jarod had lost it.  
  
Lyle stepped back for a moment in shock but then remembered himself and slapped Jarod hard across the face. Jarod's grin got wider and his dark irises rolled downwards so he was staring piercingly at Lyle. Once again, Lyle found himself unnerved by the crazed pretender. 'Cut it out Jarod, it won't get you anywhere' Lyle's voice was smooth and controlled.  
  
'You all want something. We won't. Never again, we won't. Just leave us alone.' Jarod's eyes rolled wildly and his head lolled forwards again.  
  
'Nice golem impression' commented Lyle dryly. 'Take him to SL-16' he ordered the sweepers.  
  
They had to drag him.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- ---------------------------------------- ----------------------------------- ------------  
  
Lyle was annoyed. Not only had Jarod not cracked, the torture seemed to have no effect on him. The pretended had found a headspace where he didn't so much as wince when threatened with red hot metal, didn't scream when sliced with razor blades, didn't beg for mercy when electrocuted. He just hung there, for hour after hour of brutal torture, occasionally giggling slightly.  
  
Normally Lyle enjoyed a bit of a challenge, even at the point where most sweepers had to be excused to vomit. The problem was that torture was only fun if the victim showed the fear, if they started to sweat simply when he entered the room.  
  
Lyle had also discovered that even as the head of the Centre, he answered to higher masters. The very people that had helped him to take power were now growing impatient with his lack of progress. As much as he had been in his lifetime, Lyle was at a loss. And this made him annoyed. Since it was clearly having no effect, he passed over his morning torture session and went in search of some way to get around the way Jarod had temporarily taken his mind of the hook.  
  
He found the answer in the DSA of Jarod and Parker's time together. More specifically, what Parker did to get Jarod to remember. He almost slapped himself when he found it, that he hadn't seen it before. 'Refuge' whispered Lyle grinning. He didn't go to Jarod with it straight away. Instead, he fast forwarded the recording until Parker left the cell, and watched the curled up ball of a man to see what he did to so thoroughly disconnect himself from the world. Nothing became obvious so Lyle summoned a small squad of sweepers and rode the elevator downwards to present the pretender with his new discovery.  
  
Jarod was lying in the same position as he had last been dumped. That was another thing. The pretender rarely moved of his own volition. Lyle considered it and decided that he probably wouldn't move either if he had the injuries that Jarod did.  
  
He thought in anticipation of how the pretender would scream. Rubbing his hands together he had the sweepers haul the only semi-conscious man upright. Stalking forwards until their faces were only inches apart then whispered the safe word. Jarod's eyes rolled downwards until he was more or less looking at Lyle. Occasionally they would tick sideways or roll upwards but Lyle was sure he had Jarod's attention. 'No refuge for you. The devil will burn in his own hell. You can't touch us.' He giggled then flopped backwards. Lyle swore loudly then punched Jarod hard in the stomach, cutting the giggling short as he wheezed for breath.  
  
Shaking his knuckles out, Lyle suddenly had a flash of brilliance. 'You know what Jarod, you're right, I can't touch you.' Lyle's voice had become suddenly friendly. Jarod did not respond in any way. 'I can't touch you Jarod. But I can touch those you care about. In fact, I can gouge their eyes out, because I don't need them to be able to sim for me. Think about that for me will you? I have to go and run the Centre now. But I will be back. And I would like an answer then. OK?' the whole time, Lyle's voice stayed patronisingly sweet. He waited for a few moments for a response from the pretender but gave up. Signalling for the sweepers to drop the dead weight they held between them, he waited until he was out of the cell to give his orders.  
  
'Two of you stand guard here. If you hear anything strange, I want to know. You, go watch the security cameras. He may try to escape. I'll be in my office. If anything happens, call me.'

* * *

TBC. 


	6. Crawling

  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Disclaimer: 30 days hath September,  
  
April, June and No wonder.  
  
All the rest have eggs for breakfast,  
  
Except for grandma, she rides a bike.  
  
Pretender fanatic: dunno about America, but in Australia, the majority of people in university lectures are teens. But you willingly read text books? I raise an eyebrow. Anyone so much as nearing the final years of high school won't touch the bloody things with a long stick. Oh well, I suppose you also willingly read the trash I post here so I won't complain. Thanks for your comment on my use of Sydney and Parker. I sometimes get so caught up with keeping you all guessing in one part that another becomes completely predictable. It shall be fixed forthwith. I do already have a surprise in store for Broots though...  
  
mariel4000: One can't help feeling that you only reviewed for the sake of getting you name mentioned here. Meh, thanks anyway.  
  
Brandy: Keeping you guessing? Good. #Smiles evilly#  
  
Nans: It's good to know that I'm writing at least one character right. Lyle is designed to make you shiver. I will take it as a compliment. Thankyou. 

mfkngst: The question to whether a pretender is faking it or not is always a complicated one. But yes, do keep reading, all will be revealed. Thanks for the review.

gemini006007: Who ever said that Jarod was acting? I wouldn't double guess if I was you, there are more than a few twists left in this story.  
  
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Parker was counting the number of cinder blocks in the wall for the fourth time when she heard the slight scraping from the vents. It was a sound that would not be noticed by anyone that did not know how you had to roll to one side to open the vent covers from the inside. 'Sydney, wake up,' she whispered. The old man opened his eyes. He had just been dozing. Parker made a head motion towards the vent just under the ceiling. Sydney frowned for a moment then nodded in understanding.  
  
Parker felt a thrill of excitement. Finally. She went to stand underneath the vent, to take the cover that was handed down to her to stop it from clanging on the floor and alerting the sweepers that guarded the cell.  
  
'Put that chair under the vent' ordered a soft voice. Parker complied. They helped Sydney up first. The old man had never used the vents as a method of transportation before and was stiffer and less flexible than the two children of the Centre. Parker picked up the vent cover before standing on the chair, ready to cover their escape, but Jarod told her not to worry. 'We don't have long, we're going for speed, not stealth.' Even as he said it there was a low wail, which worked it's way up through the octaves, to a point that made the teeth stand on end, then fell silent. Half a second later it started again. Parker dropped the grate and scrambled into the vent. 'Where's Broots?' asked Jarod once he saw no one was following them.  
  
'He left during the confusion of Lyle's take over,' Sydney told him. Jarod nodded in approval and the three of them hurriedly crawled away from the scene of the crime with Jarod in the lead and Sydney between the two others. The wailing of the alarm permeated everything. They reached the main vent for the sublevel and turned right. Suddenly Jarod stopped. Sydney nearly ran into him. 'What is it?' hissed Parker worriedly. Jarod didn't need to answer. Angelo appeared out of one of the side vents. She almost laughed in relief.  
  
'What's up Angelo?' asked Jarod.  
  
'Friend pain'  
  
'That's why I'm getting out of here.'  
  
'Angelo help.'  
  
'Thankyou.' Replied Jarod sincerely.  
  
Angelo reached out a hand and delicately plucked something out of the hair at the nape of Jarod's neck. Jarod looked at it in shock. He had no idea how Lyle had planted that there, but then again, he had been pretty out of it for the past week or so. Grasping the empath by the forearm, he nodded in thanks once again. Angelo acknowledged the gesture before they split and went their different ways, this time with Angelo drawing the chase.  
  
'He'll take the most obvious route through to that maintenance tunnel on SL-5, so we'll go up the north side and out' explained Jarod. 'There's movement sensors in most of the vents, but Lyle will assume that we are Angelo and he is us.'  
  
With that they kept moving, Parker soon losing all sense of direction in the almost total blackness. She found the vents to be much smaller than she remembered, and muscles unused to this sort of exercise were soon protesting. Luckily they made it to the surface feed before she needed to beg for rest.  
  
High above there was a faint patch of light and a 'whump, whump, whump' from the fan that forced the air down into the sublevels. A faint cool breeze whistled past them.  
  
'We'll rest here for a moment, it's a long climb out.'  
  
Parker crawled forward until she was underneath the vent to the surface then gratefully sat with her back against the wall. Sydney did the same, not saying anything, although Parker could hear him panting slightly. Jarod flopped down until he was laying length ways along the vent, chest heaving. 'Jarod, are you OK?' asked Sydney in concern.  
  
Give me... a... minute.' Replied Jarod haltingly. His calm and sure demeanour seemed to be cracking slightly. Sydney did not push it. If Jarod was not OK, there was nothing they could do until they were away from the Centre, so the most he could do was let the pretender rest.  
  
After what seemed like too short a time, Jarod heaved himself onto his hands and knees and felt for the rungs that led up towards the light. 'Leave space between us in case someone falls' he said, then began to climb. Once he was a short distance up, Sydney followed. Parker sat in the darkness and counted to fifty, then grabbed the bottom rung and pulled herself up.  
  
The vent was narrow enough that they had to keep their elbows in, but not narrow enough to lean back and rest. It was a long and tedious ascent. Finally though, they made it up to SL-1. Jarod waited until the other two had caught up with him then silently signalled that they should crawl into a side vent to wait while he checked out the surface. Once they had complied he quietly edged upwards until he was just under the blades of the fan that worked day and night to aerate the Centre. Flattening himself against the corner of the vent, he edged further upwards, hardly breathing until he was past the fan. Between him and the sky was a fine mesh grate, screwed unmovably into place. Or so the Centre thought.  
  
Tucked into a tiny alcove was a screw driver that Jarod had used to escape so many years ago. That night he had left it behind, against the occurrence that he should ever need to do so again. Now Jarod carefully applied it to the screws, catching them as they dropped to prevent a long and clanging fall down the main vent. When all of one side was no longer pinned down, he lifted it a fraction of an inch and peered out at the landscape. They were right next to the wall of the Centre but thankfully no one was in sight.  
  
Pulling the grate back to its original position, Jarod edged back down past the fan and into the side vent that Parker and Sydney waited in. 'There's no one up there but it is pretty exposed. Maybe we should wait for night,' he informed them.  
  
'What if we circle around to the vent that's next to the car park?' asked Parker.  
  
'It could work' agreed Jarod. 'Wait one moment.' He squeezed back up to the fan and retrieved the screwdriver then returned to join Parker and Sydney. They both moved to one side to let him past and then they all set off again.

Parker's mind shut down as she crawled, lost in endless dusty passages, so she was almost surprised when they stopped, having reached another upwards vent. Once again Sydney and Parker waited while Jarod went up to check. This time he returned with better news.  
  
'This vent comes up about 30 feet from the car park. It's hidden from the view of the Centre by the cars. Come on.'  
  
He led them upwards past the fan, lifting the grate off and pushing it to one side. Cautiously he stuck his head out, scanning one last time for any sign of danger, before clambering out and turning to help the other two. They all stood, stretching sore muscles and blinking at the sudden brightness of their surroundings. They were in a small stand of trees, right next to the Centre car park. The wail of the alarm could be heard in the distance. Parker turned around to ask Jarod what came next and saw him in the light for the first time. Her hand flew to her mouth, holding back a loud cry of horror. Sydney just stared in disbelief at his protégé.

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TBC. (If you ask nicely #smiles sweetly#)


	7. Running

Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: 3 little ducks went out one day

Over the hills and far away

Mother duck said 'quack, quack, quack, quack'

But only 2 little ducks came back

Author's note: I'm not quite sure what a ute is called in America, but it is a vehicle with one row of seats in the front, then a large open tray in the back, generally driven by hicks and yokels. Maybe a pickup truck?

Mfkgnst: I can't help feeling that you live in the same time zone as me. Your review came within an hour of me posting. Not bad. But are you a Hobart, Melbourne, Sydney, Canberra or Brisbane gal? Maybe somewhere further north on a different continent? Either that or I'm completely wrong and you just stay up really late. Anyway, thanks for the review. 'Our beautiful pretender' has been through quite a bit, I can make no promises... Sorry, I won't give it away. Read on -- 

zeilfanaat: Wow, you know they mean it when they put asterixs on the please. Well, anyway, here you are. Updated like you demanded.

Suspensewriter: Pay attention. Yes, Jarod was being tortured in chapter five. He escaped. Through the vents. That's how he was in the vents outside Sydney and Parker's cell. That's why it's really him now leading the way out of the Centre. It's not that hard to follow.

ICD: OK, I believe you. Nah, really, it's cool. Sometime extenuating cricumstances do stop people from reviewing. #narrows eyes suspiciously#

Brandy: There was a lot of excitment in your review. You used the word 'love' on four seperate occasions. Thanks though, I love that you loved it.

Nancy: Yeah, cries of horror due usually indicate that something ain't right.

gemini006007: Back to normal? Oh Mercy, how little do you suspect...

Pretender Fanatic: Calm down. Now breathe. Breathe! Wait, don't. They're nowhere near out yet. Muhahaha! They're going to go through a hell of a lot still. And hey, it's going to be cliff hangers all the way. KUTGWRS.

Jill: Only rather good?

Ruby Fuhlrodt: OK, I will. Enjoy.

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Jarod smiled wanly at the two of them, his face ashen where it was not black and purple with bruising. His hair was matted with blood and a dark stain spread slowly across his t-shirt. He was missing several fingernails and two of his fingers were twisted at strange angles. He kept most of his weight off one foot and severe burn marks were visible on his neck. Parker didn't want to speculate about what injuries he sported under his clothes.

'It could be worse' offered Jarod, before spitting out some blood. 'How exactly?' asked Parker faintly, wondering how Jarod was still standing. Jarod shook his head. 'We have to keep moving.' He hobbled towards the nearest car (which happened to be a somewhat decrepit looking old ute, probably belonging to one of the many computer technicians), Sydney hurrying after him. Parker shook herself and followed. Leaning against the car, Jarod turned to Parker. 'I need your jacket'

'What?'

'Your jacket' he repeated, holding his hand out. Parker took it off and handed it over, working on auto pilot due to the shock of seeing Jarod the way he was. She only realised too late what he was going to do. He quickly wrapped his hand in it and punched through the car window, biting his lip hard to keep from screaming in pain. It didn't matter- the car alarm went off. A few moments later a swarm of sweepers poured out of the doors of the Centre. Sydney reached in through the broken window then unlocked the door, opening it to allow Jarod to sit down. The pretender recovered and bent under the dash board. Parker couldn't see what he was doing but the noise stopped. A few seconds later the engine chugged to life. Sitting up, Jarod smiled in triumph.

'Get in'

Parker stared at him in disbelief. 'You can barely stand.'

'We don't have time to argue'

'Jarod, you're not the only one that can drive here' she told him fiercely

'I'm the only one that can evade them' he replied, indicating the sweepers that had split up and were circling around to surround them. Sunlight could be seen glinting off gun metal, and a short distance away the sound of a motor roared to life. A thrill went down Parker's spine as she noticed them. Sydney was already in with his seatbelt on. Parker wavered for a moment then hurried around to the passenger side and crammed in next to Sydney- there were three seats across the front. She barely had the door closed when Jarod gunned the engine and sped forwards.

'Seatbelts on' he warned them, as the car swerved around a sweeper. Bullets thudded into the side of the vehicle. Jarod made it out of the car park and onto the asphalt road that led down to the gates out of the Centre. Parker's eyes widened as she saw that the huge metal gates that marked the end of Centre property were closed, and that a line of gun toting sweepers stood in front of them. 'I recommend you duck' said Jarod. Seconds later the windscreen shattered as bullets screamed through it.

Miss Parker could feel Sydney trembling next to her as the ute accelerated further. Jarod was going to live free or die trying. She prayed the gates would give way. There was more gunfire, only some of it missing. There was the sound of engines behind them; apparently there was cars giving chase. 'Brace!' yelled Jarod over the pepper of bullets, then yanked the handbrake on. Parker was slammed against the seat belt as the car's wheels screeched in pain. They spun a nauseating 180° and Parker recovered just in time to see a black town car go shooting past them and straight through the gates, scattering sweepers to either side.

Wrenching on the gear stick to put the ute in reverse, Jarod took the hand brake off and stepped on the accelerator. Parker and Sydney were thrown forwards as they sped backwards through the gate then squashed sideways as he turned the ute just before they hit the wreck of the town car. Now perpendicular to the road, Jarod crunched through the gears again, swinging in a wide circle and back onto the asphalt. The thudding of bullets into the ute slowed then ceased as they sped away. Parker took a deep breath and realised it was the first one she had taken in a while. Looking back she saw the Centre rapidly shrinking into the distance, small dark figures beginning to climb out of the wreckage of the smashed car.

Once they had travelled a short distance up the freeway, Sydney broke the silence in the car. 'They're not chasing us Jarod. Pull over so we can swap drivers'

'I can't Sydney. If I stop now I will collapse. We have to keep going until we get somewhere safe.'

'Jarod....'

'Matheson's technique Sydney. I can't stop now.'

Sydney looked less than pleased at this news. 'What?' asked Parker, feeling she was missing something from this exchange. 'Matheson's technique involves concentrating on something to the point of completely ignoring the body. It's dangerous. You can push yourself to death if you are not careful.' Sydney told her. Parker looked at Jarod. His jaw was clenched as he stared at the road and he gripped the wheel hard. It seemed impossible that he was even conscious, let alone driving. She felt her gut twist in worry. 'Where's the closest place we can stop?' she asked Jarod. 'Not far.' He replied. Parker accepted this. What else could she do? She just hoped that Jarod hadn't already gone too far.

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Authors note: I made up Matheson's technique- call it artistic license- although horses have been known to run themselves to death during a race or a hunt. Either way, don't try it at home.

TBC.


	8. Hiding

Chapter eight

Disclaimer: Hickory, dickory, dock,

The mouse ran up the clock,

The clock struck one, the mouse ran down,

Hickory, dickory dock.

Brandy: Jarod miiiigght be alright. Depends on how I'm feeling. #grins evilly# Incentive to review ay? btw, I have no objection to the word 'love' used in reviews. Multiple uses of the word 'love' indicate great enjoyment of the story. That shows I'm doing something right. Glad you liked the escape scene- I was going for the action movie style.

gemini006007: Now Jarod's free, _with _Parker and Sydney, do you really think he'd give up by dying? ...Well, read to see

Onisius: Well, you've asked the poignant question. You'll have to read to find out. But once you've finished doing that, hurry up and update your stories Missy. If you have time to review, you have time to write. Go on.

SezZie: All seven parts ay? Sure you didn't skip the fifth one? Kidding. I read your bio. Don't know why you complain about Perth. It's a nice place. Cozy. I live in the Melbourne which you seem to think is so wonderful. Believe me, it's overrated. If I could stand 30 degree days for more that a few weeks a year, then I'd swap with you. Ah well, at least you don't pine for Sydney. Or... Adelaide #shudder#. Anyway, thanks for the review. Read on.

ICD: Get angry will you? Is this update soon enough or should I go and hide under the couch? Don't know why you're so excited about getting to leave a review. Usually I only bother unless I'm berating someone about their grammar. Not that I'm complaining or anything.

mfkngst: You have excellent precognition. Tender shipper moments will abound in the next coupla chapters. Canada. Hmm... OK, so it may be other side of the world, but we both despise Americans right?

Pretender Fanatic: energiser bunny theory. Hmm. Perhaps not hugely scientific sounding, but meh. I like it. Hey, don't bag morbid children! It's perfectly normal. Did you know that before they got sanitised, most fairy tales involve blood or gore of some sort? It's a large part of being a kid.

zeilfanaat: people not reviewing not affecting how fast I write? Who have you been talking to? OK, moving house does grant you special exemption, but just this once. Enjoy.

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The battered ute pulled into the driveway of what Jarod assured them was a safe house. He briskly opened his door and stepped out before Sydney and Parker had unclipped their seat-belts. Parker quickly leapt out of the car and hurried around to give him a shoulder to lean on. He refused her help, limping to the door and retrieving a key from under the doormat. Sydney and Parker followed him into the small but neat house; both fully prepared to catch him if he fainted at anytime.

When they were inside he gave the small neat living room a cursory glance to check that all was as he had left it then turned to the two that were watching him carefully. Ignoring their concerned looks he began to briskly give orders. 'We have to get the ute out of the driveway; the Centre will find us otherwise. And we need to contact Broots, we'll need his help. And...'

'Jarod!' said Sydney. The pretender looked around at the two standing behind him and frowned questioningly. 'Jarod, stop' said Sydney, more softly this time. Jarod froze for a moment then sighed and gently collapsed in a heap. The old man moved with surprising speed to catch the pretender as he fell. Parker moved to help and they manoeuvred him onto the couch.

'Is he OK Syd?' asked Parker worriedly.

'We can only hope so, ' replied the psychiatrist quietly, intently watching the unconscious man. 'He's right though, we need to get rid of the car.'

'I'll do it, you look after him' replied Parker. Sydney nodded and she walked back outside to the ute, which Jarod had left running, having no way of turning it off.

-------------------------------------- ------------------------------ - --------------------------------- ---------------- - - -------------------- ---------- -------

By the time Parker returned, Sydney had washed the majority of the blood out of Jarod's hair and started dressing his torso with a very well stocked first aid kit he had found in the bathroom. He had cut the shirt off and when Parker opened the front door she was greeted with a brutal view of Jarod's bruised and battered chest. Again, she speculated on how he had managed to crawl so far through the vents to escape.

'How bad is it?' asked Parker when she could speak again.

'Your twin was not kind' replied Sydney. Parker grimaced. 'Any broken bones?'

'Only his fingers that I can tell so far.'

She left Sydney to it, unable to bear the sight of Lyle's abuse. Every cut was another crime she had ignored, another childhood stolen. Trying to divert her mind, she wandered through the rest of the house. Looking in the cupboard in the kitchen, she knew instantly that Jarod had been here before. 'We have sugar' she muttered to herself. Wandering on she found two bedrooms and a bathroom. Back in the main room she found a handgun hidden in the bookcase and gratefully armed herself.

'We can't stop here long Syd'

'I know. We should be all right for at least a day though. Besides, Jarod's not going to wake up for a good twelve hours.'

'Will he wake up?' asked Parker, harshly voicing both their fears. Sydney looked at the unconscious pretender and sighed. 'I hope so Parker. He pushed himself pretty hard.' The psychiatrist knew what he had been put through would have been enough to kill a weaker man. Jarod was tough, but he had taken so much in his life. Sydney was worried that this would be the final straw. It was not simply the physical wounds. The metal facet of the torture is not a thing a person could easily forget.

Parker stood for a moment, just staring, then went back into the main bedroom, where she retrieved a blanket. When she returned it seemed that the psychiatrist had finished the washing of most of the worst wounds, and had dressed the large gash that ran from the top of Jarod's chest to the bottom. He was now working on Jarod's head wounds so she covered the rest of the unconscious pretender with the blanket. Sydney looked up in surprise. 'If we want to stay out of Lyle's way, then we'll need him.' She explained, attempting to rebuild the wall that Jarod had so successfully removed with his wide innocent eyes as they had talked in the cell together. Sydney just smiled his knowing, psychiatrist smile.

-------------------------------------- ------------------------------ - --------------------------------- ---------------- - - -------------------- ---------- -------

When Jarod did wake up, he felt like shit. Bits that he didn't know he had were hurting. He let out a groan to give the world some warning then opened his eyes.

He was in a living room and the cool blue of predawn light was pushing in around the edges of the curtain. A trickle of memories turned into a flow, filling him in on just where he was, and what that ache in his fingers was.

A soft sigh made him raise his head, and he became aware of a dark form in a chair by his head. She had found a semi-comfortable position in the hard, wooden chair and was dozing. Even as he watched, the form moved, straightened slightly and then a pair of blue eyes met his. He rested his head back against the pillow and groggily gazed upon her beauty.

They both remained silent for several moments before Jarod ventured a soft 'hey.'

'Syd said you wouldn't be awake for at least another three hours' she also spoke softly, with no reproach or anger in her voice- something Jarod had rarely heard.

'Well Sydney did the smart thing and slept in a bed, instead of spending the night in a chair' he chided her gently, his voice rough with sleep.

'He would have if I hadn't made him go to bed' she replied in defence. Jarod laughed softly and decided to let her indiscretion drop. 'Do you want some painkillers?' she asked.

'No thanks. I need to stay sharp.'

'We've got your back Jarod. You're not on your own anymore.' Parker told him in a one of her rare open moments.

'Thankyou Miss Parker,' he replied sincerely, 'but I have been through worse without painkillers. If it has done nothing else for me then the Centre has made me tough.'

'It has also broken most of your fingers and three of your toes. Stop being stubborn PEZ head.'

'I thought it was just an offer'

'You know me better than that.'

Jarod laughed and gave in. Once Parker had watched him take the two white pills she went to the kitchen in search of something that wasn't pure sugar. She reappeared a few minutes later with a cup of hot soup for the injured man and found that Jarod had dozed off again. She stood and watched him sleep, a faint smile on her lips as the soup went cold.

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TBC.


	9. Searching

Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: Little Bo peep has lost her sheep

And doesn't know where to find them

Leave them alone, and they'll come home

Wagging their tails behind them

CrackerjacknPez: I'm not going to bother replying to that massive review here. I already e-mailed you. Not that there's anything wrong with massive reviews. Thanks anyway.

SezZie: I guess these things go on the basis of 'nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.'

Brandy: What's so shocking about me updating? I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I have about 3 chapters in the can. I actually post slower than I write. Yeah, Parker's softening towards J. Doesn't mean there ain't gonna be sparks though.

mfkngst: Thanks for the compliment. Yeah, I cheer for everyone pretty much indiscriminately in the Olympics ('cept for America). It's a great Australian tradition (that is, egging every one on, and hating America).

Gemini 006007: Thanks for the review Mercy. You'll see about Broots though.

pretender fan: OMG! OMG! Sorry, when reviewers get excited, I get excited. But yes, some more 'romantic stuff' will be happening shortly.

Onisius: Good going with repercussions. Thanks for updating. I wouldn't rate broken fingers as minor. From the breaks I've had, fingers hurt worse than arms, legs and collar bones. Thanks for the review.

* * *

It was nearing midday by the time that Jarod roused again. He opened his eyes to see Sydney and Miss Parker sitting at a table, heads bent over a map, quietly discussing something. Despite the fact that a mere five hours had passed, he felt much better. Yawning, he folded the blanket down and sat up. 'Morning again' said Parker, looking over to see that he was awake. Jarod nodded in response. Then he glanced down and his went mouth dry. The black and purple mess of his fingers, the burns and cuts on his chest, the heavy bruising all battered at his mind, reminding him of how he had let go at just the wrong moment.

His horrified inspection was cut short as Sydney handed him a shirt. 'It will heal' he was told firmly as the psychiatrist helped him to put it on. As Sydney assisted Jarod, Parker mused again on how the pretender had managed what he did. He had survived almost a full week of Lyle's company, broken out, rescued them, and above all, he seemed unaware of the extent of his injuries. The way he had looked at his fingers had been of a person seeing them for the first time. Parker frowned then noticed that Jarod had noticed her noticing him. She met his gaze for a moment, conveying some the questions she had in store for him, then rose and headed into the kitchen. Jarod watched her leave as Sydney carefully bound his fingers

The three of them left the safe-house under an hour later. This time they moved with a plan. Through his haze of pain and drugs, Jarod was impressed. The two that had formerly pursued him had obviously been taking notes. Their passage was smooth, and unremarkable to any potential witnesses. Parker had ditched her week old business suit, and was instead dressed in jeans and one of Jarod's shirts that was a couple of sizes too large for her. Sydney remained in his non-descript suit, playing the part of a father helping his daughter with a brain damaged son. Jarod's bruised face was hidden in the shadows of a hooded jumper, and the excuse explained his limping gait.

The three walked, with Jarod in the middle and supported on either side, a short way to a bus terminal, where an interstate bus left every half hour. Their tickets were paid for in cash, probably stolen from the Centre in times past. It was after six o' clock that they reached their destination, a b-grade hotel, the only criteria for selection having been a high speed internet connection and the option of paying upfront in cash. And that it was a good distance away from the Centre.

They stumbled through the door, Jarod barely making it the few steps to a comfy looking armchair. 'We need a car' he wheezed. 'I second that' joined Parker as she sank down onto a couch next to the armchair, 'I hate public transport.'

'Young people these days. No stamina' commented Sydney lightly as he wandered into the next room.

Parker laughed then stood to place a pillow behind the pretender's head, whose eyes had closed. The hood of the jumper had fallen back when he had flopped down on the couch, revealing the fact that the dressing on his forehead was soaked through with blood. Parker grimaced and rose to retrieve a damp cloth from the bathroom. When she returned Sydney was quietly urging Jarod to get up and move to the couch where he could stretch out. He was having some difficulty. The pretender's eyelids flickered briefly open then he mumbled something and fell back asleep.

'Stubborn' commented Parker, handing Sydney the cloth. 'Parker...' warned Sydney. She ignored him and un-holstered the gun she had borrowed from the safe house in Delaware. She quickly flicked the safety on and off then re-holstered the gun. Jarod's reaction at the sound was instantaneous. His eyes snapped open and he was half way out of the chair before he looked around to judge what was going on. 'Since you're awake,' said Parker sweetly, 'you can get your arse over to the couch so Sydney can look at you wounds.'

Jarod gave her a look that stated that so much as touching a gun in his presence again would result in slow and painful death but obligingly heaved himself the rest of the way up and limped across to the couch. Sydney shook his head disappointedly at Parker, who responded with an innocent shrug.

After Sydney had readministered to Jarod's injuries, and almost before he had finished, Jarod fell asleep once again.

'This is the most sleep he has had in one day since he was ten' commented Parker wryly.

'Healing needs sleep. It doesn't matter though; we have plenty of time. Letting Lyle stew right now is to our advantage.'

'Say what you will, personally I'm itching for revenge. That bastard interrupted my holiday.'

'He also murdered several people, has cannibalistic tendencies and is now in a position of enough power to cause serious damage to the world, not to mention the fact that he almost tortured Jarod to death.'

'That too.'

Sydney shook his head again, although his eyes remained on Jarod. Parker smiled grimly and sighed. Sydney was right; it would be a while before Jarod could walk normally again, and yes, she grudged Lyle for every scratch and bruise.

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The object of Parker's hatred was now sitting in his new office, stewing. It had been a... disappointment, when they had finally flushed out the presence in the vents, only to find the idiotic empath, blinking in the sudden light. Likewise, Lyle had not been pleased with the three's speeding escape that had resulted in the ruin of a set of gates, a car, and the hospitalisation of a sweeper. He was annoyed with the way he had so easily fallen for Jarod's act. The original madness may have been real, but 'refuge' had worked, he just had not realised. He cursed himself inwardly. Things had gone so wrong. And once again, the triumvirate was on his tail.

Still, Lyle had a few aces up his sleeve. Jarod would soon be in his clutches again. Not to mention his sister. And they would be at his mercy. He closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to think of the sweet pleasure of watching Jarod's flesh melt, hearing his screams. Oh yes, he would have the pretender soon enough. An evil smile graced his lips and he stood to go and check on a few of his favourite projects, sideshows until the main attraction started.

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After Jarod had rested, they set to work. The room came with a reasonably up to date computer, and Sydney helped Jarod to sit in front of it before pulling up a chair to sit beside him. Parker remained standing, looking over the shoulders of the two men.

His typing was inhibited by his broken fingers, but he slowly and steadily traced Broot's movements since he had left the Centre. The tech was good, he had covered up most traces, but no one could best a pretender at any game they choose to play, so it was not long before Jarod had an answer.

'Oh, no' he said, reading the code that flashed across the screen.

'What?' asked Parker sharply from where she hovered just behind Jarod's shoulder, unknowingly distracting him far worse than any of his injuries.

'I found him' replied Jarod.

* * *

TBC... (although that 'tbc' is entirely dependant upon reviews of course) 


	10. Finding

Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: Mary Mary, quite contrary

How does you garden grow?

With silver bells and cockle shells

And pretty maids all in a row

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Author's Note: Just recently my muse had a heart attack and is currently recovering in hospital. I've been posting the chapters I have in reserve, but this is the last one. The next chapter is half written, but is progressing slower than it should be. So, all I can say is- patience my pretties, patience. Oh, and review with any character meetings or scenes you would like to see included- they really help. 

CrackerjacknPez: Here you go, another chapter. And btw, there is no such thing as a review that's too long, so don't worry about word count. No, seriously, write away.

Onisius: Here you are- you won't have to wait for more. And as an added bonus, you get to find out what's happened to Broots.

Me: yay, kudos for me. That's me with a lower case m. You sound a lot like someone I know Me. Which country do you hail from?

Brandy: who you calling a brat?!... OK, I admit it, I am, probably, a brat... but only a little bit. And, oh yes, Lyle is about get his just deserts. Quite a lot of just deserts. It's looking like the rest of the story will involve mostly Lyle torture with a healthy amount of JMP.

mfkngst: Would Jarod be saying 'oh no' if Broots was OK? Well, you'll find out. About Canadians and Australians being similar; I have developed a theory. The closer you are (econmically, socially or politically), you are to a large and annoying neighbour, the more you hate them. And as they say- mine enemy's enemy shalt be considered mine friend. We (the Aussies) developed our finally honed desire to take the piss on England, and have continued that proud tradition on America. It is the smaller country's job to keep the neighbour at least partiallty sane, or, failing that, roll their eyes when they troop off to war, proudly sprouting idiotic propaganda.

gemini006007: yay! I got the badge of 'amazing story' from Mercy. Thanks for the review. Keep reading.

ICD: I learnt my cliff hangers from the best. As you made me suffer, so I make you suffer. #Gives an evil maniac laugh# Oh yes, I will make you review. I will torture you with cliff hangers until you tear your hair out!!! #realises she just put three exclamation marks on the end of a sentence and wanders off to call the men in white coats# Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

_Last Chapter;_

'Oh, no' said Jarod, reading the code that flashed across the screen.

'What?' asked Parker sharply from where she hovered just behind Jarod's shoulder, unknowingly distracting him far worse than any of his injuries.

'I found him' replied Jarod.

* * *

_And now;_

'Lyle's not as stupid as he played. He had insurance. He was just toying with us, letting us escape.' Parker's heart sank at his words; she knew what they meant. Sydney looked equally distraught from where he sat on the desk chair next to the pretender.

'So much for having time' said Parker resignedly. The bumbling bald technician. A man that went up and above the call of duty for her. A punching bag when the world simply became too annoying. Broots...

'Where's Debbie?' asked Sydney suddenly. Jarod's eye's widened and he turned rapidly back to the computer. He didn't hide what he was doing from the two that were watching and they both saw him hack effortlessly through hundreds and thousands of dollars worth of firewalls that was the Centre's protection. 'That takes Broots at least half an hour' commented Parker, trying to fend off her worry about the young girl that had become dear to her.

'Mr Broots is at a disadvantage in that he wasn't the one that built the system.' Replied Jarod distractedly as he peered at the screen, then began typing again. He soon pulled up surveillance footage of the teenager, curled in the corner of a Centre cell. 'Oh god' said Jarod blanching. 'That was where Lyle tortured me.'

Parker suddenly resolved the dark patches on the walls and floor into blood. 'If he's hurt her, I swear...' Parker tailed off, to angry and disgusted to speak. Sydney hurriedly reached over and turned the monitor off, fading the picture into blackness.

'A trade it is then' said the pretender in a quiet voice. Parker's eyes snapped onto Jarod; even the normally unflappable Sydney look sick and shocked. 'Lyle will kill you if he gets his hands on you again' Parker told him, her voice denying any possibility of Jarod ever going back to the Centre.

'There are other ways Jarod,' started Sydney, recovering from his shock, 'we can rescue Broots and his Debbie from the Centre without sacrificing anyone.'

'Can you _guarantee, _that? Parker's wrong, Lyle won't kill me, I'm too important. Can you say the same about Debbie and Broots?'

'We can't Wonder boy, but you can. Sim it.'

Jarod shook his head in response then laboriously stood, making his way into the bedroom. Parker looked questioningly at Sydney. After they both heard him drop onto the bed, Sydney spoke. 'Such a complicated sim would take several days preparation. It involves not just Lyle, Broots and Debbie, but anyone that might be in the Centre on the day. It's a good idea Parker, but as it is, at the moment he can barely stand, let alone sim.' Syd glanced towards the bedroom, his brow creasing with worry. Looking back to Parker, they shared a look of understanding. They would both go through hell and back to stop the pretender going back to the Centre. The problem was, they needed a plan. The old psychiatrist raised his brows questioningly, but Parker shrugged. Shaking his head, as though to say 'don't worry about it,' Sydney stood and followed Jarod into the bedroom.

Parker sat there a moment longer thinking hard. She could hear the faint sounds of Sydney helping Jarod to get ready to go to bed. The old man must have convinced Jarod not to take any action until they had all had some sleep. Her mind circled around the Centre, around Jarod, around Lyle. Deep inside was an anger so white hot that anyone exposed to it could not hope to survive for long. She was raging mad that Lyle had dared to do this. Why couldn't they just be left alone? The sparkle that the Centre had rarely ever managed to erase from Jarod's eyes was gone. And Parker hated them for it. She would not let the pretender turn himself in; she would not give Lyle the satisfaction. They would find another way.

She sat there musing until the light behind the curtains faded, and then some time after that. The thing that finally broke her reverie of circling thoughts was Sydney's quiet yet wavering voice. 'Parker' he called, with such uncertainty and worry in his voice that Parker rose immediately. She had rarely heard the old man sound anything other than cool, calm and collected.

'What is it Syd?' she asked once she had entered the bedroom. Her voice was quiet, so as not to wake the pretender that slept sprawled on his front, taking up most of the double bed. Sydney sat in a chair next to the bed, in the position of vigil that Parker had occupied the night before. His face was marred by an anxious expression. Upon seeing her enter, he simply pointed to what had become exposed on Jarod's back as he had turned over in his sleep.

Parker looked for a moment, not comprehending. Then her stomach heaved in disgust. That Lyle could do such a thing... At the same time she knew the sick and twisted mind of her twin would have seen no problem in doing what he had. Still, all words had been ripped from her mind. Such an act of cruelty was the stuff of nightmares. Indeed, a similar dream had once haunted her sleep.

For freshly branded across Jarod's back were the words 'Property of the Centre'

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The next morning both Miss Parker and Sydney both had trouble meeting Jarod's eyes. Despite his depressed mood he soon picked up on their evasion.

'What is it Sydney?' he asked finally as the three of them sat not eating tray of room service they had ordered from the motel. Sydney paused before answering and Jarod's expression darkened.

'Do you remember anything from the time you spent in the Centre Jarod?'

Jarod frowned, wondering why Sydney had asked this, but answering anyway. 'Only what happened while I was amnesiac.' And when Parker looked into my eyes and put all her faith in me to save her he added silently. 'Why?' he asked suspiciously.

'Lyle...' started Sydney, then stopped and lowered his head, unable to continue. Jarod's expression became worried, desperate to know what the psychiatrist couldn't tell him. Parker took that moment to intervene.

'Jarod, come into the bathroom' she told him gently. He glanced once at Sydney to check that he was OK, then followed Parker, his thoughts in turmoil.

The bathroom was quite small, but there was plenty of room for both of them to stand. One wall consisted of a sink sunk in a bench, with a mirror covering the rest of that wall. Parker motioned for him to come and stand in front of her, with both of their backs to the mirror, which he did with reluctant uncertainty. She gently touched two fingers to the centre of his back and he flinched. 'It hurts then.' She confirmed, reasoning that everything else probably hurt him just as much so he would not have paid special attention to his back. Jarod said nothing, tightly controlling his anxiety, waiting for Parker to tell him in her own time.

'Jarod, this won't be easy to see. Try not to freak out OK'

'OK' he nodded, his breathing quickening, anxiety turning to fear. 'Take your shirt off' she told him. He paused for a moment, then complied, Parker having to help him after a moment when he couldn't lift his right arm to pull it all the way off. He stood un-self consciously in front of her, finding no inhibitions in baring his torso in front of her after all they had been through together. After a moment she picked up the hand mirror from the bench. Silently she handed him the mirror, although she did not remove her hands when he reached up to take it, instead standing on tip toe from behind his shoulder to see from his perspective and angling it for him, allowing him to see his own back.

The shiny and puffy flesh stood in ridges along his back. Jarod's disbelieving eyes took a couple of moments to actually perceive what he was seeing as words. When he did Parker felt the palpable change in the air. She saw the muscles in his back all outline themselves as he tensed before he lowered the mirror. He allowed it to fall from his grasp and she half-turned to place it back on the bench, then walked to stand in front of the pretender, whose expression had gone blank.

'Jarod?' she asked gently, looking deep into his eyes in an attempt to gauge why he was reacting like this, how deep the shock ran. After a moment his eyes focused on hers. His jaw clenched and he inhaled deeply through his nose. Saying nothing he strode out of the bathroom, his walk now far from the halting limp that he had exhibited before. Parker blinked in shock then hurried after him.

Sydney stood as they entered the room, looking in surprise at Jarod, who had paused and was standing in the middle of the room, his shirt off and his eyes flashing in anger. He abruptly focused on Sydney. 'I will make him pay'

'Jarod, revenge in anger will be regretted later. Why don't you just sit down and we can...' Parker cut him off. 'Now's not the time to give counselling Freud.'

Jarod nodded tersely in agreement with Parker's sentiment and Sydney acquiesced. Parker was vibrating on much the same wavelength as the pretender- her deep seated anger at her brother now finding outlet. In hitching a ride with Jarod on his plan for revenge her desire to see her twin burn in a fate worse than death would be sated. Her fury would be added to his own with much the same effect of taping a scram jet onto the back of a speeding race car. The Centre would not stand one chance. Lyle would rue the day when he ever thought of imprisoning Broots and his daughter. Brutal thoughts ran circles through the heads of both the two red files as they hunkered down together along with Sydney to begin their scheming.

The psychiatrist was almost shocked at the streak of violence that became apparent in the two children that he had known for half a lifetime. He had suspected that their unpleasant upbringings would cause more instabilities in their characters than he had previously observed, but their imagination for pain was shocking indeed.

Plan after plan for bounced back and forward between them, Sydney's only contribution usually being on some small continuity or to rein them in when they became too irrational or angry. Still, he did not rein them in too hard, as, contrary to his calm façade, the psychiatrist himself had a burning current running through him as well. Lyle more than deserved retribution. Sydney would finally be getting his own back for the years of abuse to him and those he tried to protect.

With the fervour that Parker and Jarod openly displayed, and the subtle steering of Sydney, it did not take long before the three of them had settled on a plan. Now they ran over the fine details it, polishing and occasionally embellishing the fine details.

As Lyle sat behind his fine desk, gloatingly awaiting the moment when Jarod realised who he held hostage and made contact to hand himself in, he had no idea of what awaited him.


	11. Before the beginning

Chapter eleven

Doomsday

Disclaimer: Jack and Jill went up the hill

to fetch a pail of water

Jack fell down a broke his crown

And Jill came tumbling after

Authors note: sorry all, there's been a major stuff up with my replies to people. I wrote them all out, and then had to reload the chapter due to all the errors, and the replies didn't get reloaded, so... sorry. I'm just to tired and irritated to write them out again. I'll do it next chapter, I promise.

* * *

Mr Lyle smiled quietly to himself as he typed up a report to the triumvirate. Things were looking good. A technician had informed him that there had been a hack into the Centre mainframe last night. He correctly assumed that it had been Jarod discovering just where Mr Broots and his daughter were being kept. The chairman of the Centre now waited with tingling anticipation for the phone call of a thoroughly broken pretender, ready to give himself up.

As in the manner of a coy fifteen year old, too vain to let someone know that he had been waiting for a call, when it did come he let the phone ring twice before he picked it up.

'Hello Bobby' said a silky, dark and dangerous voice. Lyle abruptly realised that this would not be the phone call he had anticipated. Still, he attempted to sound unfazed, to take control.

'Jarod. Ready to come home like a good little guinea pig?' His voice was at once jovial and threatening.

'This is a request that you release Deborah Broots and her father.' Jarod neither acknowledged Lyle's question nor responded to it, his dark tone both cold and impersonal.

'You will buy their freedom with yours' replied Lyle lightly.

'If you have refused to acquiesce to our request, then this is a 48 hour warning.'

Lyle let out a bark of laughter. 'You're threatening me? Hah! I believe you are aware of the fact that your buddies are at my mercy. How many toes do you want them to have when I'm done?' He was becoming slightly annoyed at how Jarod was failing to respond to his barbs.

'If they are harmed while in your care it will only make this worse for you.'

'If you try anything, then I will paint a room with their blood, specially for when you are back in chains in our basement.' Lyle's voice had become a low growl.

'If that is so, then consider this a 24 hour warning.'

There was a click. Lyle looked at the phone then hurled it across the room. It snapped on impact with the wall, dropping to the floor with wires and chips showing where the casing has cracked. Lyle let out a sound that could well have been a snarl, then reached into one of the desk draws. When he extracted his hand it was encased in a set of knuckle dusters.

Lyle had figured out a long time ago that when people made him angry and then made themselves scarce, it was perfectly acceptable to take it out on the next nearest person. In this case, that happened to be the annoying, bald computer technician. And Jarod had made Lyle very angry...

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Parker watched as Jarod hung up the phone, her anxiousness hidden well under a cool, serene mask. Her knuckles were in fact white where she gripped the desk that she perched on. The call had been routed through fifteen other phone numbers, so the three were not worried about a trace being used to find them. No, their worry was for someone else entirely.

The pretender turned to the computer, and began to type as fast as he could. It would take Lyle approximately two minutes to get to Broots' cell, or two minute and thirty seconds to get to Debbie. It took a minute and a half to fix Broots' cell. Debbie's was higher security, and took five. Hands shaking with adrenaline and fear, Jarod sat back, whilst Parker calmly watched the screen as Jarod switched it over to monitor the security feed. Sydney was equally rapt from where he stood leaning over Jarod's shoulder. They sat back to watch the results, cautious optimism warring with outright fear. If this didn't work then not only did the whole plan fail here and now, but Broots and Debbie were in very immediate danger.

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Lyle made it to the tech's cell in time to hear a heavy clunk from the door. He frowned and strode forward, ignoring the sweepers that stood either side of the door. He rapidly punched in the access code with his left hand and pulled on the door handle before he registered that the screen had flashed red at him. Suspicions beginning to dawn, he typed in the code again, slowly and carefully. The sweepers watched him warily out of the corners of their eyes; Mr Lyle was known to randomly lash out when annoyed.

The key pad beeped twice at the chairman. Slowly and deliberately, he slipped the knuckle dusters of his hand, drew his gun and, cocking it and with a fluid movement, put a bullet into the square pad of numbers. The loud shot rang down the hallways. The slightly larger sweeper on the right had flinched; the other one had only just managed to stay steady. For a moment Lyle paused and all was silence as he stared at the gently sparking mass of wires.

Then, casually, he re-holstered the gun and turned to the sweeper that had flinched. 'Open this door' he commanded quietly, yet with enough threat in his tone to make any one less than six foot tall wet their pants.

Despite his six foot six inch status, the man suppressed the urge to wet his pants. He managed with a faintly audible gulp. 'It...it's locked, Mr Lyle' he stammered.

'I noticed that _Charlie_' the menace was now mixed with equal amounts of sarcasm that did not bode well for the quaking sweeper. The man wished fervently to be out in the sunlight, miles from these monotonous corridors of steel and concrete. He wished to be anywhere but where he was right then. But his life depended on the mercy of the insane and thumbless man, so he pulled his screaming thoughts under control.

'I'll call maintenance. They'll have tools to cut the door open.' He managed. Lyle's smile was about as reassuring as a fin that cuts rapidly through the water towards a drowning swimmer. The mad chairman straightened the lapels on the sweeper's suit, then nodded and stalked up the corridor, towards the lift down to Debbie's cell, just to make sure. Behind him the sweeper sagged against the wall, while his partner patted him on the shoulder in sympathy.

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The three escapees waited until they Lyle returned to his office, having equally failed to budge the door into Debbie's cell. Timing it precisely, Jarod pressed the enter key on the computer. There were no cameras in the chairman's office, but that did not matter. Jarod knew exactly how long it took to get from place to place in the Centre; he had relied upon the knowledge many a time to avoid getting caught as he searched for relevant information in the very office which Lyle now inhabited.

Counting to three under his breath Jarod nodded to Parker. She quickly typed in a number for him. With his broken fingers bound together he could barely hold the phone to his ear. Sydney noted this. Since discovering the words burned into his back, Jarod had gone back to the point of almost ignoring his injuries. Despite their grand plan for revenge, Sydney was determined that he would step in if the pretender pushed it too far. The problem with Jarod was, he was very good at pretending that he was OK. There was a click as Lyle picked up. Jarod drew in a deep breath...

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'Hello Bobby.'

Lyle clenched his jaw as he held his mobile phone to the ear. He had sat down in his desk chair when the phone had rung. Now he regretted answering it. He was beyond angry. Now was not a good time for a verbal jousting match with Sydney's little experiment. Still, he had little choice.

'Turn the lights back on' Lyle growled down the phone The pretender's voice annoyed him. It did not betray the weakness it should have after Lyle extensive torture sessions.

'And give maintenance the chance to use their power tools on the cell doors?' replied Jarod lightly, with a mocking undertone.

'Aren't you worried about all those poor people on life support in the renewal wing?' taunted Lyle.

'Oh come on Bobby. Both you and I know that there's a back up generator for the medical machinery. Now, about our deal.'

'I will not bargain with you Lab Rat. Turn yourself in and I will release the technician and his daughter. Although I must say, Debbie is _really_ enjoying her lodgings.' This time it was Jarod's turn to clench his jaw, but he did not let it show in his voice.

'The Centre is very vulnerable Mr Lyle. There's no end of ways I can make you uncomfortable. Release them now, or I will see just how much you can put up with.'

'For a genius, you do seem to be quite thick. You are only making this worse for yourself. Hand yourself in, ready to sim for us, and I will forget your indiscretion.'

Jarod simply gave a dry laugh and hung up. Sitting in the dark Lyle swallowed hard.

* * *

TBC...


	12. Toying

Chapter Twelve

Authors note: Yes, it has been a very long time. Forgive me. I'm trying to hammer the rest of this out, so I can get this unfinished story off my conscience. I'm going to stop writing personal replies to reviews, because they seem to take as long as the writing itself, but that doesn't mean I'm not reading and taking every single review to heart…so…. Be nice.

Disclaimer: Hey diddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle  
The cow jumped over the moon  
The little dog laughed to see such fun  
And the ran dish away with the spoon

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'and today the millions cry "we need a drink" when tomorrow they die'  
_Bloody Sunday, U2_

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'It will be a case of simple classical conditioning Sydney' commented Jarod as the psychiatrist removed the dressing from his head to check and clean the wound. The three of them had moved their base of operations once again and Parker was currently having a shower in the bathroom of the hotel room they all shared.

'Hardly simple Jarod. Never underestimate your opponent.' Sydney cautioned the pretender as he gently peeled back the tape that held the swabs onto his forehead.

'I'm not. Nevertheless, there will be very little he can do.'

'If Lyle tried this on you, would you find a way out?'

'Yes. But he is not me. It will work Sydney. Ow!'

'Hold still. I don't doubt that you can pull this off Jarod, but don't be over confident.'

Jarod sighed long sufferingly. However long he had been out from under Sydney's direct tutelage, the old man would always be his mentor, whatever the situation. It gave Jarod a strange sense of comfort, knowing that Sydney would always be looking out for him. He winced as the dressing came off at last.

'Well, it's not infected. It looks like it is healing well actually.'

Jarod didn't answer that, just lay back as Sydney began to clean the dried blood off, wincing occasionally when cloth brushed against the wound. He was thinking. He _had _been assuming that Lyle would passively allow his path to be steered any way that Jarod wanted. He would rail and fight against his fate of course, but the pretender had been counting on the fact that he would not come up with any worrying resistance. But Sydney was right; he had been assuming a little too much about an opponent.

There was a click as a door opened. Jarod lifted his head to watch Parker emerge from the bathroom but Sydney firmly pushed him back down so he could finish washing the wound. Jarod grinned as he appealed to Parker. 'Miss Parker, could you tell Sydney to stop fussing over me?'

He heard the snort of amusement, slightly muffled as she dried her hair with the towel. 'You'll get no help from me Lab Rat. If Syd says you need doctoring then sit still.'

Jarod sighed theatrically. 'I rescue you both from the Centre and this is the thanks I get?'

'Oh stop complaining' she shot back, then re-entered the bathroom to start blow drying her hair. Sydney claimed his attention then, starting the painful process of sticking a new dressing over the gash on his forehead. But now his mind was racing once again after a brief pause in his plotting to banter with Parker.

As they neared the 24 hour deadline, it would be a wise idea to have a backup method of getting Broots and his daughter out. Perhaps a modified version of one of the plans they had discarded... There was one that had been rejected in favour of a plan that achieved a more dual purpose, but would work fine should Lyle throw in a last minute wrench. He'd need to get in touch with Angelo…

Sydney smiled as Jarod's eyes began to stare into another dimension. He had long ago learnt that when Jarod's eyes unfocused like that, his mind was sharpened to a point, picking away at all the possibilities of a whatever future reality he was seeing. As well as the more immediate fact that meant the pretender would stay still whilst he dressed the wound, it also meant that, more than likely, some ingenious plot was being manipulated to fit the current reality. And that meant that Broots and Debbie would be just fine.

It wasn't that Jarod would ever, ever even dream of neglecting the fate of a person that he had the ability to protect. It was just that Sydney understood that however calmly he was acting, and maybe even thinking, Jarod's need for revenge was far more primal. Sydney knew, because if he had his way, Lyle would have been crucified, then hung, drawn and quartered a long time ago. And so, with gentle manipulations, (which the psychiatrist was surprised that he still possessed the ability to perform) Jarod needed to be nudged toward remembering the reason why Lyle was being bought low.

So now Jarod's mind purred, like a well oiled V8 engine, whilst Sydney finished his task, and moved onto the next gash, a quiet smile still on his features.

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Deborah Broots squashed herself hard into the unyielding corner, her face pressed against her knees in an attempt to block out the blood spattered walls, and the stains that pooled on the floor, which she knew were there, despite the all consuming blackness. She couldn't block out the smell of it though, and the knowledge that she was prisoner here. Even worse, the lack of knowledge about why she was prisoner here. Her father had barely come in the door, a goofy smile on his face as he told her they were moving when behind him had burst a swarm of black suited men, seemingly out of nowhere. They had been everywhere she had turned, as her father had screamed at her to run, and hearing the desperate fear in his voice she had twirled around to flee, only to run into another group of them, entering through the back door.

Rough hands restraining her and a chemical smelling cloth over her nose and she had woken up here, with her dad was nowhere in sight. She was terrified. She didn't know how long it had been, it felt like an age. The position she had been curled in for a long time was making her muscles hurt but she didn't dare move. The last thing she remembered before she had blacked out had been a thumbless man pacing towards her, a triumphant smile on his face. Her father had once told, warned, her, about the man that was Miss Parker's twin brother. Really all he had said was to try to stay out of his way, but she had seen the terror in his eyes and from then on, from time to time, the thumbless man haunted her dreams.

She willed for something to happen, someone to save her. There was a rack in this room, that had held delicate tools of some sort, and chains hung from the ceiling- she had seen them before the lights had abruptly cut out. It was clearly a demonstration that her captors did not keep her here for her own benefit. She was hungry and cold and scared and she really hoped that her dad was OK, because…because she couldn't bear to think of the alternative.

There was a scuffling sound and a faint thump, and Debbie, if possible, sunk further into the corner. Suddenly a soft pressure touched her shoulder. She jumped into a standing position with a scream. Her back to the corner, she looked wild eyed around the cell, trying to pick up something, anything, in the complete blackness that pushed into her eyeballs. 'W…Who's there?' she whispered fearfully, blinking in an attempt to clear the darkness.

'Friend' a soft and warm voice, that came from close by.

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Jarod sat back in the computer chair and frowned, then winced as a droplet of warm liquid dripped down his forehead. Grabbing a tissue, he pressed it lightly to the cut that had just pulled open. Holding it there, he read once again the short and slightly cryptic e-mail that had just appeared in his inbox. He had just logged in to send Angelo a heads up, and to ask the empath to take Debbie and Broots some food, but it appeared that was unnecessary. The e-mail, in a roundabout fashion, that Angelo was holding up his end of the line and that Jarod should go ahead and make Lyle sorry.

And Jarod intended to do just that. It looked like the Centre had managed to get their power back on sometime last night, but that didn't matter because the power was just the start. Making sure it was untraceable, and completely anonymous, he sent a tip off email to the IRS about the Centre. Normally they would ignore the corporation, but luckily for Jarod, it was an election year, and well…

As soon as Lyle was nearly through dealing with his extensive tax audit, Jarod began scaring off long time customers of the Centre- not enough to seriously jeopardise the Centre's income (had he been able to do that, Jarod would have done it a long time ago), but enough to, as with everything else he did, annoy Lyle.

Next, small mishaps began to occur at certain Centre outposts. A storage facility for less important Centre files burnt down. The suppliers of technical equipment went out of business. A few long time employees quit, leaving no appropriate replacements. One of the Centre buildings got a roach infestation and had to be shut down for several days.

Then there were the personal attacks on Lyle himself. The pot plants in his office died. The manufacturer of his car recalled his model, leaving him on public transport on the way to work. He got a cold.

Jarod let his imagination run wild- every little curse he had ever wished upon those at the Centre, he now exacted. It made his day when reports began to filter through that Lyle was losing his hair from stress. The pretender let it go on a little longer, then picked up the phone once more. It had only been a week, but Jarod was quite sure that the new chairman would be beginning to crumble.

TBC… (I promise)


	13. An Ending

Chapter Thirteen

Author's note: The reason for using nursery rhymes instead of disclaimers (apart from the fact that I think that, most of the time, disclaimers are stupid) is that, by my twisted reckoning, nursery rhymes are the ultimate distilled wisdom of man kind. What else is known world wide in all echelons of society? What other knowledge has been passed down, unchanged, for, in some cases, hundreds of years? I'm just saying is all. Oh, and I didn't create the pretender and make no money from these endeavours…

* * *

Lyle stared fixedly at the opposite wall. A flake of paint was peeling off. Apart from the small twitches that his eye occasionally made, he hadn't moved for three hours. One lone fly buzzed through the window, banged around the room for a bit, then made its exit. Lyle's eye twitched some more then he sneezed.

Things were going wrong. Things that couldn't possibly be the pretender's fault were going wrong. Things that shouldn't have been physically able to go wrong had been going wrong. And now, Lyle appreciated fully the plight of those that relied on public transport to get around.

The newly installed phone rang. Lyle didn't move. It rang again. Moving automatically, he picked up the receiver then let it drop with limp fingers. His mobile started to ring. Eye twitching almost uncontrollably Lyle sighed in defeat and picked it up.

'What?' he asked listlessly.

'Say mercy.'

'Will you leave me alone?'

'No, but I will stop torturing you.'

'Mercy.'

'That's a good boy Bobby. Now go downstairs and let Broots and Debbie out.'

'Yes sir.'

Lethargically, he hung up the phone and tramped out of his office. His secretary had quit, so he didn't expect anyone to be in the outer office, but Angelo fell in beside him as he left the room. Lyle didn't blink. He had forgotten how.

The sight of Broots and Debbie rejoicing as they were re-lit a tiny pilot flame of hate in Lyle, but a little whisper that had been instilled in his head told him that Jarod would not approve of his desire to messily remove their heads from their shoulders. So he didn't. Instead, he escorted them outside and then left them, Angelo shadowing him all the way.

Then, with Angelo as his guard dog, and Jarod there to punish or reward his every action, he morosely set about cleaning up the Centre, in the hopes that one day the pretender would let him have his car back.

The End


End file.
